


forgetting your coat can be beneficial, you know

by godmolly



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes (BBC Radio), johnlock - Fandom
Genre: Gay, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-28 14:45:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10833432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/godmolly/pseuds/godmolly
Summary: John leaves his coat at home when he meets Sherlock for a case -- luckily, Sherlock's is big enough for them to share.Really short, and one hundred percent fluff.tumblr





	forgetting your coat can be beneficial, you know

Sherlock had said it was urgent.

It was always urgent with him, as if Sherlock assumed himself the most important thing in John’s life, for which he would drop anything to help.

Sherlock had assumed correctly, but that didn’t stop John from regretting his hastiness.

At his best friend’s message, he had dropped his book on the chair and climbed straight over the coffee table to reach the door. (He was developing Sherlock’s habit of just walking on top of the furniture, as opposed to the more civilized manner of just walking around it.)

And he hadn’t brought a coat. It was negative six degrees on Oxford Street, where Sherlock was investigating … something. John didn’t really know what was going on. All his brain could really register was cold, cold, cold.

 

Until, of course, the only thing that could grasp all his attention at once came into focus.

“John? John, are you alright?” John felt a hand on his arm. Sherlock had led them away from the buzz inside the police tape.

“Yeah,” John said faintly. He shook his head and cleared his throat. “Yeah.” That one came out more strongly. “Sorry, just …”

“Just?”

John shrugged. Sometimes Sherlock’s seeming lack of human-ness made John want to be just as unaffected by things.

But the thought of sucking it up was becoming less and less appealing as he stood there, not able to feel his feet or hands.

“A little cold, is all. I’m fine, though.”

Sherlock studied him. “John, you’re shivering all over the place and your nose is blue. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out, though it may take one to get you to admit it.”

“Well, Sherlock,” John retorted snappishly, bouncing on his feet. He felt short. “Even if I did, it wouldn’t make much difference.”

“Just because your best friend is a high-functioning sociopath with a minimal fraction of a normal human’s emotions doesn’t mean you can’t have feelings, John. In fact, I believe experiencing feelings is,” he glanced around the street briefly, “encouraged in this society.”

John rolled his eyes, too cold to crack a smile, and turned to look at the destroyed building.

Lestrade was running around, talking with the paramedics and his colleagues. John saw him glance in their direction and nod briefly to them before heading back into the mess.

He felt something warm around his neck. He craned it to look, and saw that Sherlock had tied the dark blue scarf around it.

“Oh, Sherlock, you don’t have to —”

“Navy suits you, John. Wear it more often,” Sherlock said, unbuttoning his coat and plainly not listening to the halfhearted protests from John, who turned around all the way to face his friend.

 

Sherlock held his coat open with a warm look on his face, to which John replied with a confused expression.

Sherlock let out a huff of frustration, then leaned forward and grabbed John’s elbow, pulling him into his embrace.

John really didn’t want to admit it, but Sherlock was extremely warm, and his coat and arms both being around John made him feel safe and comfortable.

And maybe John was thinking that the cold wasn’t so bad after all. Or that he could stay like this for a while.

 

Unfortunately, the latter would not be true. Too soon, there were voices requesting Sherlock investigate the site (“Wait a minute.”) and making comments about their position (“Piss off, Anderson.”).

When the voices went away, Sherlock shrugged off his coat and draped it around John’s shoulders, then strode after Lestrade, straightening out his suit.

John hurried after him, unconsciously pulling the warm fabric as tightly as possible around himself.

He couldn’t really say that he paid attention to what Sherlock was saying. The detective’s coat smelled like their flat, like home. But something else, too, like chemicals and smoke.

John supposed that made sense, seeing as he came into regular contact with both of those things quite frequently.

All of a sudden Sherlock was at his elbow. “Come on, John. Let’s get out of here.”

“Why? What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” Sherlock said, dusting off his already immaculate suit, “I just don’t want to deal with everyone here. Especially Anderson. He’s particularly insufferable when he’s cold.”

“I heard that!” came Anderson’s nasally voice.

“You were meant to!”

“Well, d’you want to get something to eat, then?” John asked, bouncing again.

“Yeah, sure. Chinese?”

“Chinese.”

 

~Lucinda


End file.
